Of Cookie Dough and Dipshits
by Maerd7733SCAIP
Summary: Because everyone knows the best way to talk about your problems is over a tub of raw cookie dough with the woman who's getting married to the man you're in love with. Rated T for language.


"You're not supposed to be eating raw cookie dough."

"Do I _look_ like I care?"

"It's got raw eggs in it."

"It's tasty. And addicting."

"There are probably _millions_ of calories."

"Leave me alone."

"You're going to get so fat."

"_I'm_ not the one who has to squeeze into a wedding dress in a few weeks."

"It's bad for your health."

"Shut up. I can do whatever the hell I want."

"…what kind?"

"Hah! Even _you_ must bow down to the awesome powers of raw cookie dough!"

"I said, _what_ _kind_?"

"Chocolate chip."

"…gimme a spoon."

"Get your own spoon. I ain't movin'."

"Brat."

"Bitch."

"Loser."

"Loser? Really?"

"Shut up."

"Ooh, I'm so scared. Your comebacks are getting lamer and lamer by the day."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…so…"

"…"

"Well, this isn't awkward at all."

"You can say that again."

"Well, this is-"

"I didn't mean literally, dipshit."

"…"

"…"

"…can I feel your left hand?"

"Exc_use_ me?"

"Well, how _else_ am I supposed to know what's going on?"

"Gee, I don't know, you could try _asking_?"

"I just did."

"Ugh! You're worse than my dad!"

"So I'm guessing by your cheerful attitude, he's finally proposed?"

"Built a mini Eiffel Tower to do it, too. Said we 'lost the moment the first time around.'"

"Typical of him. How big of a wedding is it gonna be?"

"…I'm sorry."

"The hell? Where did _that_ come from?"

"I'm sorry."

"For what, exactly?"

"For…y'know."

"Let's say I don't."

"You gave him up for me."

"Oh. _That_."

"You hate my guts."

"Yeah, well…"

"It must've been hard, to give him up."

"…honestly?"

"Yeah?"

"I'd have rather go back to my dad than give him up."

"Oh."

"But…I want him…to be happy. And…he couldn't be happy…if he was with me. As long as he's happy…then…that's all I care about."

"…"

"I love him."

"…"

"But…he loves _you_. Not…not me. I…I want him to be happy. Like, really happy. Waking up on Cloud Nine every day."

"…oh."

"Really? _Really_? I pour out my heart and soul to you, and all you say is 'oh'?"

"I don't know what else to say."

"Oh."

"I feel _so_ bitchy right now."

"Why?"

"I feel like I'm stealing him away from you."

"Trust me, _I_ was the one stealing him away from _you_."

"He does love you, you know."

"Like a sister."

"Like a _lover_."

"…"

"I can give him back to you, if you want."

"He's not a prize to be won."

"I know _that_. I'm just saying…he's the one person who's ever made you, like, really happy. And…you gave him up…to someone who's been a total bitch to you, ever since you arrived."

"I told you already. I want him to be happy."

"…you're incredibly brave."

"How so?"

"Surviving eleven years of physical abuse from your dad?"

"How do you-?"

"Isabella told me."

"Oh."

"He raped you?"

"…yeah."

"And hit you?"

"Broke a few bones, yeah."

"And yet, you're still this mostly cheerful woman who has to watch the love of her life get married to a woman she hates in a few weeks."

"I don't hate you."

"…"

"I detest you, yes. I'm jealous, I strongly dislike you, I'm nauseated, I feel like throwing up every time I hear you speak, but my hatred is reserved for one man and one man alone, and he's overseas in Paris."

"…really?"

"I could never hate you."

"…thanks."

"I promise I won't go all 'I object!' at the wedding when the preacher asks if anyone disagrees with the marriage."

"Haha!"

"And I promise I'll be a nice auntie to your kids."

"Wha-?"

"Oh, come _on_, you _are_ going to have kids, right? You won't deny me that much?"

"I'll have both of our children for us. I'll live out the dreams you didn't get to live out for the both of us."

"Thanks. Between you and Isabella, I'll have two lifetimes completed."

"Very funny."

"I'm serious! She promised me the same thing!"

"Huh. I guess great minds really _do_ think alike."

"Don't go getting a big head; your veil won't fit."

"Haha."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"Do you believe in heaven?"

"With all the angels and shit?"

"Yep."

"And the poofy clouds? Where everything is all cheerful and smiles and Care Bears and completely ridiculous?"

"Do you?"

"…yeah."

"Do you believe in rebirth?"

"The hell are all these questions coming from?"

"Just answer them!"

"Yes."

"Then I promise, when we get to heaven-"

"Excuse me. _We_? I'm included in that?"

"Yes."

"_Why_?"

"Because I said so. Now shut up and let me finish!"

"Be my guest."

"Like I was saying, when _we_ get to heaven, and if we're worthy of rebirth, I promise, you'll get your lifetime with Ferb."

"…you can't mean that."

"I do."

"Are you for real?"

"Do you love him?"

"Yes."

"This is my lifetime with him. The next one is yours."

"But…"

"No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I get my lifetime with him, you get yours."

"…thanks, Vanessa."

"No problem, Alexandra."

"Dude. It's Alex. Just. Plain. _Alex_."

"It seemed like a full-name moment."

"Fine. It was a 'full-name moment.'"

"…you know, we really shouldn't be eating raw cookie dough."

"You're fucking impossible, Doofenshmirtz!"

"I try, Garcia-Shapiro. I try."

"…I get the last spoon."

"Over my dead body!"

**A/N: Oh, yes, I had **_**so**_** much fun writing this. It started out as just something completely random that I was writing and then it turned into this. Tee-hee.**

**In case you haven't figured it out already, this is Vanessa Doofenshmirtz, chatting with my OC Alexandra Garcia-Shapiro over a tub of raw cookie dough. I love writing for the both of them, even though they don't play big roles in my fanfictions as of yet. They didn't really like each other at first, but as you can see here, they're becoming friends.**

**Again: I had so. Much. Fun. Writing. This.**

**I've put this up on deviantArt as well if you want to check it out!**

**Review, please!**


End file.
